


Dean Is Not Dr Sexy, But He Does Hold The Cure.

by tndrgay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Hiccups, Humour, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Up to you if you read this as Wincest or not.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tndrgay/pseuds/tndrgay
Summary: Sam can't stop his hiccups. Dean comes up with a solution. (No, this time it's NOT sex.)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 89





	Dean Is Not Dr Sexy, But He Does Hold The Cure.

**Author's Note:**

> (˘･_･˘) Friendly reminder that this is an anonymous, no-judgment kink account where I write for prompts that have been sent to me. If you don't like a fic, please remember: Your Kink Is Not My Kink And That's Okay. Just exit out of the page and move on. (˘･_･˘)

Whatever reason is behind the fact he's blinking awake at bastard-o-clock in the morning, Dean already hates it and wants it gone immediately; wants to retreat back into sleep with his arm thrown over Sam's waist and dreams of a long, leggy blonde showing Dr Sexy into the room. He doesn't even deign to look at the red digits of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand- nothing good can come of it, after all. 

Just what the fuck woke him up, anyway?

His brother jolts beside him and Dean tenses, reaching for the knife under the pillow, ready for demon possession, an earthquake, anything. He jolts again. " _Hic!_ ". 

He rolls his eyes and flops back onto his pillow, moving over onto his side of the bed. _"Huck!"_ Sam had been bitching since lunch about having a bellyache, determined to place the blame on Dean's shitty food choices, and Dean had even been extra kind and considerate at bed time and offering belly rubs. Which gives him every right to be annoyed now, when Sam's decided it's the perfect time to get the hiccups. _"Hiccup!_ " 

Dean aims a kick in his brother's direction. "Dude, seriously? Piss off and let me sleep."

 _"Hulp!_ " Sam pushes himself up onto his elbows to glare at him, the effect mired when he hiccups again and it makes his hair fall over his face like a damn puppy. But despite the puppy-dog eyes, he's a big guy, so he has equally big, hard, _loud_ hiccups that no one could sleep through. He opens his mouth to say something in retort and is cut off with a sharp " _Huckup!"_

Dean merely raises his arm and points at the door. 

With even _more_ grumbling, he stomps off, slams the door open then reaches behind and drags the _entire duvet_ with him too, leaving Dean yelping and squirming from the cold. "Bitch!"

"Jerk- _hic!"_

***

 _"Hic-cup!_ " 

Dean jerks awake with the lurch of Sam's chest, groaning and flipping him the bird, trying to go right back to sleep. 

" _Dean.._ " The tone of voice snaps him to instant awareness, taking in his brother's disgruntled pout and messy hair and the bags under his eyes. Sam pouts harder, muffling the next hiccups. 

"For fuck's sake," he complains, realising what the problem is. "Go Google how to get rid of them and lemme sleep."

"You've alr- _huck!_ \- already slept in. _Huck! Hup!"_

It's at this point that Dean realises, acknowledges, and concedes, that it's lunch time. "So?" Not that lunch time isn't a perfectly acceptable time to sleep in until, though. 

"So- _hilp!_ \- So, get up." Sam orders. " _Huck-ulp!"_

 _"_ I'll get up when _you_ stop hiccuping."

Sam _glares_ , then deflates at the next one. "Not happen- _hic!_ -ing," he replies, pulling at the hem of his shirt. 

He does the math in his head, "Dude, twelve hours?"

The answer is a forlorn _"Hic!"_ .He lifts one corner of the bedspread and pouts- Sam's not the only one who can use puppy-dog eyes when the situation calls for it. 

Concern bubbles up when his brother slides under the covers without protest, but Dean is swift to quash it- he's not turning into a helicopter parent over the damn _hiccups_ , for fuck's sake. 

On cue, Sam hiccups loudly in his ear, the jerk of his body meaning he kicks Dean in the shin. Dean kicks him back. 

" _Hulp!_ It's not as if- _hilk!_ It's not like- _huccup!-_ I can help it! _Hic!_ " The last one is particularly sharp and he puts a hand over his stomach, grimacing. "And I've sti- _ilk!_ still g-got- _huckulp!_ \- bellyache." Dean hides his sympathetic face by pulling his pillow back over his head. Sam won't appreciate anything he thinks is pity, but twelve hours of hiccupping on top of an already upset stomach has gotta _hurt_.

He lets him stew a while, feeling the jolts of his tall body and listening to the way his grouching dies out to nothing and then, only when it's safe, does Dean slowly, carefully start to- well, _spoon him_.

It startles a hiccup out of him, which means him smile in a way he's glad Sam can't see. In the privacy of the Bunker where no one in the world knows where they are, he lies right up close, cheek to collarbone, then snakes his arm round their tangled limbs and starts rubbing Sam's belly in slow, calm circles. Sam huffs, probably preparing a rant about how he's _not six anymore, Dean_ , when it's derailed by his umpteenth hiccup of the day and he gives up and lets him do what he wants. 

Dean does, palm jumping with hiccups that eventually begin to get further and further apart, until they peter out completely and Sam's fast asleep and snoring in his arms. He grins, letting sleep start to overtake him too- there's nothing better than a long lie in on a Sunday morning. 


End file.
